


The Fool Who Followed Him

by OhSnazz



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhSnazz/pseuds/OhSnazz
Summary: News of the Battle of Gronder Field reaches the Resistance Army. In this brave new future, the former Blue Lions and Golden Deer must come to terms with the loss of their loved ones who did not join the Black Eagles before the outbreak of the Unification War.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. The Long Road

**Author's Note:**

> Currently playing through Silver Snow Maddening without NG+. I wasn't able to recruit everyone in time. I got most of them, but not all. Before Fort Merceus you have a gap month where you're informed of what happened at Gronder, more specifically, how much of a disaster it was. I figured I'd explore how the characters I did save would be impacted by the monumental loss, starting with Felix. He's my MVP. It's also my first post, so, a little terrified!

**_Part Two, Silver Snow_ **

**_Great Tree Moon, The Long Road_ **

_Following the Resistance Army’s capture of the Great Bridge of Myrddin, the former Knight of Seiros Gilbert, once again in servitude to the Kingdom Remnant, reaches the encampment with news of Alliance and Kingdom troop movements into Imperial territory. Unable to stretch their forces further after their first major battle, the Resistance Army stays back and fortifies the southern bank of the Airimid River before launching a full invasion. By the end of the Great Tree Moon, the Resistance Army once again begins to mobilise, only to be halted by a troubling missive._

* * *

Felix drew the straps on the last of the equipment he would be carrying and began walking through the legions of organised chaos to the assembly point. The Resistance Army had packed up ready to be organised into its usual convoy formation. Marching was never particularly enjoyable, but overall spirits were high following a short month of relative calm following their first successful strike into Imperial occupied lands. Typically for big relocations all available fliers would guard above, ahead and around to scout the area and watch for ambushes. Those resigned to the ground were mostly expected to walk, or take turns hitching a ride on supply wagons or with other mounted units.

Though he liked to keep himself isolated, Felix spared a glance and a nod to his companions as he passed through the makeshift stables. Ingrid and Sylvain were arguing aside their mounts once again, they really do argue like an old married couple, Felix chuckled quietly as to not draw attention. Similarly, Bernadetta, Petra and Leonie were putting the finishing touches on their mounts’ load while Flayn tended to the steeds, her ability to seemingly conjure fish out of air to feed the animals still an enigma.

Around the corner and into a clearing within the trees, under one of the few remaining tents, Yuri and Ferdinand were trying to coax Constance out into the daylight as Hapi and Linhardt lay fast asleep, presumably on their folded-up supplies. Caspar seemed too busy shouting at Balthus to fight him, rather than bother trying to wake up Linhardt. Never change, fools, Felix thought. Catherine, Shamir and Cyril looked on characteristically unimpressed while loading crates and weaponry onto wagons.

On the outskirts of camp, Mercedes led Marianne and Ignatz in a quick hymn while Dorothea and Manuela were simply happy to be able to flex their voices. Hanneman looked significantly less enthused, having shared a tent with Enbarr’s loudest for the last few weeks.

As Felix approached the meeting point, Byleth gave a gentle wave to Felix before turning away to converse with Seteth who regarded him with a simple nod.

“All packed up?” Felix turned around to see Sylvain walking his mount towards him.

“Of course. I travel light.”

Sylvain laughed, “when we’ve had a good night sleep at home, we should go for a drink sometime yeah? It’s been over a month since we’ve hit an inn and I’ve started to forget what an Anna looks like.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that right?” Sylvain’s faced dropped a little. “Alright, just this once.”

After a good hour or so of waiting around, the remainder of the army had all gathered and were ready to roll out. With a month of training in the woods, Felix was burning for live combat once more. The chance to cut down The Stubborn Old General. Though he did not show it, Felix was giddy at the prospect of this, the greatest challenge of the war thus far.

“Alright everyone, change of plans.” Byleth announced garnering the attention of all. “We move on Fort Merceus at the end of the Harpstring Moon. For now, we regroup at Garreg Mach. Move out.”

Chatter erupted from the crowd as Byleth turned to face her closest adviser and mount her pegasus. “Are you sure about this Seteth? Not that I doubt Shamir and Judith’s combined spy network, but…”

“Professor”, Seteth opened with a confident yet compassionate tone. “I assure you we have verified it to the best of our abilities.” His face was contrastingly solemn, having seen casualty reports. “We should inform those with ties to the Kingdom and the Alliance on our return to the monastery.” With a brief nod, the pair took to the skies headed for home.

A wave of frustration pelted Felix. “Another month of training by himself in lieu of actual combat. Pathetic.” He murmured, not noticing Ingrid approaching.

“Felix, what’s the matter?” Ingrid cut straight to the point as usual.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Felix retorted, never one for idle conversation.

“I see.” An uncomfortable lapse while Felix stared at the trodden dirt ahead. “Well, Sylvain and I are going to head out first, take care of yourself Felix.” Ingrid’s abnormally subdued voice did not go unnoticed.

“Hmph. See you at the monastery”

When Ingrid was out of sight, her face dropped as tears began to form.

As the fliers graced the winds, the convoy on the ground followed suit. Felix was no stranger to marching at this point, though he would not have turned down a lift from Slyvain or Ingrid. Instead he found himself uncharacteristically enjoying the countryside while sticking by Dorothea, who kept the mood light by singing marching songs, with a little backup from Manuela and even some of the troops. While you could not quite call it a sea shanty without the waves crashing against the stream of song, it was a pleasant distraction regardless. Somehow Dorothea even had Bernadetta singing along, forgoing her embarrassment just this once, while Flayn and Catherine were more interested in volume than harmony.

Once the sound mellowed for a moment, Felix found his mind wandering back to the academy. If only Annie were here, she would have loved this. What kind of ridiculous lyrics would ‘The Long Road’ song have? Something about the rain and the mud? Unfortunately, she had been one of the three remaining Blue Lions by the years end, not there to make the promise to reunite, though surely Mercedes would have mentioned it in her correspondence, right? Why was she not here?

“Felix?” Dorothea broke him out of his trance. Though her demeanour had torn over the course of the war, the two still frequently spent time together, be it training or tea, he reckoned he would probably call them friends by now. “You’re worried about Annette again, aren’t you?” Her gaze all knowing.

Felix could only exhale and slowly nod his head, as they marched down the long road.

In the skies above, Byleth and Seteth spearheaded the convoy in relative silence. While neither were conversationalists, they had built up a good enough rapport to make the quiet uncomfortably palpable. Seteth was the first to speak. “How are you going to break it to them?”

Fortunately, the remaining six members of her original class had rallied behind her along with Ingrid, Sylvain, Mercedes and Felix from the Kingdom, with Marianne, Leonie and Ignatz from the Alliance. As well as the Knights of Seiros, the Abyssians and academy staff of course. All had kept to the five-year promise. Except Ashe. Byleth would never truly forgive herself for Ashe. Byleth’s typical stone mask faltered for but a moment as her second in command offered his proposal.

“If I may suggest. We should start with those from the Kingdom and the Alliance first before the rest of the troops. Those from the Kingdom will undoubtedly be hit the hardest and should be given the most time and space. Ingrid and Sylvain were close to Dimitri having grown up with him, so we should take extra care with the two of them. I am, however, unsure of how to handle Fraldarius.” Silence enveloped the duo once more.

“So, Ingrid, what do you reckon the fuss is?” Slyvain huffed. The pair were flying behind the Professor, not quite out of earshot. Much to Ingrid’s surprise, Sylvain had switched focus away from cavalry to join her in the skies, albeit with wyvern. Originally, she had suspected it was a good way to get closer to Petra, another wyvern rider. Having just joined the Black Eagles together, it was hardly a surprise he would waste no time in getting to know the girls of the class.

“I know as much as you do Sylvain.” Ingrid chided, already growing weary of his attempts at small talk. The pair had undoubtedly become much closer since the outbreak of war, some had called them a couple in denial. Regardless, some of their old bickering habits had yet to die off.

Ingrid gazed into the sky ahead with hollow eyes, having overheard both the Professor and Seteth receive the grim news just the night before.

“Ing, I know when something’s up. You can talk to me, please.” Sylvain’s once cavalier, flirtatious tone much more serious and assured now.

“Alright, pull back.” With an exasperated nod, both fliers began to slowly drag back to give themselves some distance as to be certain that they would not be overheard. “Remember the battle of Eagle and Lion?”

Sylvain nodded, noticing Ingrid was trembling, His heart sank. He had not seen Ingrid like this since… Well since Glenn…

“There was another battle there, at Gronder”, Ingrid choked, now openly weeping. “Dimitri’s dead Syl. He was alive all those years, escaping execution in Fhirdiad, somehow rallying against the Dukedom for what? To die in some fucking field.”

Sylvain stuttered. The four of them, including Felix, had grown up together. They all attended the Officer’s Academy in the same year. They all switched to learn under Byleth and the Eagles of the Adrestian Empire, except Dimitri.

“We turned our back on him, Sylvain, when he needed us the most. Now Dimitri is dead. They’re all dead”

“Does Felix know?”

“No. It’s worse than that Sylvain. Rodrigue was there. I think the Professor is going to break the news to Felix separately but… Gods she was there too.”

“Who else?”

Ingrid let out a desperate sob before turning to look at Sylvain, now also with tears streaked across his face. “Annette.”


	2. I Stand Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Gronder unfolds.

**_Part Two, Azure Moon_ **

**_Great Tree Moon, I Stand Alone_ **

****

Bodies impaled on lances, blood streaming towards the fettered earth below. Mounts lay gutted, their riders left strewn across the dirt, flesh torn asunder by volleys of arrows, their bodies left broken. Flames engulfing the wooden barricades and siege engines as the field runs crimson, tarnished with gold and blue fabrics as they too ignite.

Trembling to her core, Annette stumbled to her feet as a searing pain offset her balance, clutching her face as her bloodied fingertips catch her gaze. The miasma in which she finds herself is repugnant beyond comprehension. Without weapon in hand, Annette begins to wander through the nameless fallen before her, scattered to arrange a sordid path. The bodies around her still clutching to their weapons, their banners bearing the crest of House Dominic. Rain begans to fall as she kneels to inspect her fallen brethren; their skin as cold as a Faerghus blizzard. Not a single soul survived under her command. It was her job to look after her soldiers, now they lay in ruin, united they rest in a sea of the dead.

Standing once more, Annette, still shaking, stepped through her fallen battalion towards a faint blow of orange and red. Moving towards the shallow river crossing, Annette spotted a bloodied violet veil dipped in the edge of the riverbank. Following the trace of blood from the garment past yet more bodies of golden robes, underneath a fell tree rendered lifeless, adorned in purple and white, her face buried in the undergrowth. A gentle mist layered the ground as the rain continued to fall. Annette ran the back of her fingers across strands of white hair beneath her, the water hitting the ground now indistinguishable between tears and rainfall. Having studied together as prodigies just five years ago, where once Annette found herself staring at a friend with burning ambition, now there was a dulled star ripped from the sky.

Returning to her feet, patting her dirtied hands across her white tunic, Annette stood once more alone in the ashes, carefully treading towards the now further obscured glow in the distance. The wooden palisade adorning the overlook beyond the ford in ruin having succumbed to the inferno. Slowly making her way up the wrecked bark path to the top of the hill, the surrounding chaos brought to view despite the veil of mist masking the true extent of the body count. At the top lay yet more bodies, perched against battlements and siege engines, charred beyond recognition much like the rest of the surrounding structure. From her new vantage point, Annette recognised the orange light, while still obscured by water and haze, as it began to take shape into the blade of a halberd, the hurled dishevelled husk at its base wrapped in thick fur trudging further away, kicking the bodies out of its path.

Entranced, Annette descended back to the ground, now a damp mire. Her path blocked as lone wyvern stood, its silver scales not presenting itself for a fight. Instead the beast locked eyes with her, resigned to simply watch from a distance. As the rain continued bearing down, the beast turned its head as a man adorned in gold quilt approached, carrying a body in his arms. Wordlessly, he observed Annette before unloading the woman on the back of the wyvern, pink locks masquerading her face, her gloves glistening in blood. With one final hollow visage, Claude gave a teary glare before mounting the wyvern and flying into the horizon. The Leicester Alliance was no more.

Five years of war should be enough to dull the visceral pain of death, or so she had once hoped. Helpless to shape the reality around her, Annette pushed onwards, wandering further into the killing fields as Adrestian flags came into view. Fallen titans of wrangled demonic flesh blanketed the expanse ahead, an endless abyss of more decay. 

Proceeding once again through more of the fallen decorated in blue and crimson, Annette stumbled, her body hurling over into a trench. Now covered in the blood of man, the rains of the heavens and the earth below, her eyes lifted from the soil only to land on two more fallen Kingdom knights. Underneath the towering metal shield, his equally rigid face propped up against the incline. His eyes once filled with repentance and self-loathing now empty, body left to rot as Annette’s mind began to flay itself.

This was meant to be their reunion. To return to Mother a happy family. It was why she had devoted herself to attending Garreg Mach. It was over, she had failed. Mother was under close watch of her traitorous Uncle and the Dukedom while she alone had escaped into Fraldarius. Rodrigue had taken her in after five years of resisting the Dukedom. Now he too rests here, the Shield of Faerghus, left in a ditch in a desolate Imperial wasteland. Were his last moments spent lamenting separation from his son, or did he cling onto his self-assured knightly creed until the end. As her tears bore into her Father’s chest, all Annette could do was wish she had chosen a different fate for herself. To have joined Mercedes and Felix on their journey back to Garreg Mach, to be with her real family.

She frequently wrote to Mercedes during the early years of the war while under close watch from her Uncle and the occupation force. Mercedes had insisted that she should accompany Felix and his childhood friends to the fallen monastery, but as soon as news reached Dominic that Gilbert had returned to serve under the Kingdom Remnant, her mind was foolishly made up. She would follow her father to Fraldarius, who in turn would follow His Highness, though as she would discover, he was nought but a deranged beast.

Having snapped back to reality with a crack of thunder, Annette emerged from the pit turned grave as the water began to wrap around her ankles, threatening to pull her back in. A fresh wave of horror engulfed her. Dimitri, unleashing a guttural scream, pulled himself along the ground Areadbhar in hand with arrows crippling his legs, clawing desperately to reach the Emperor who stood atop him staring down blankly. Dimitri continued dragging his lifeless body, his face writhing in despair until the beast slowed to a halt and his weapon struck the floor. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus had fallen.

Annette dropped her head in sorrow once more, revealing a dark javelin protruding from her breast. Gasping for air and choking on blood, she lifted her gaze. A dark mage towered ahead, watching her. Silently, he removed his facemask, deep yellow eyes cutting deep into her wound before returning to the Emperor’s side. Struggling to stand, she fell backwards, crashing to the pit she had emerged from. A harrowing calm amid a deafening silence. Annette fixated on the sky above as raindrops peppered her face until she finally shut her eyes.


	3. Peace to the Fallen

“How does a father look a child in the eye and tell him his Brother won’t be coming home?”

“How does commander look a soldier in the eye and tell him his Father has fallen in battle?”

“How does a leader look a sole survivor in the eye and tell him his oldest friend had been cut down?”

“How does a friend look a broken man in the eye and tell him his lover is among the dead?”

“How do I look my student in the eye and tell him I failed him?”

  


**_Part Two, Silver Snow_ **

**_Harpstring Moon, Peace to the Fallen_ **

  


The heavens opened, rain pounding against the chiselled masonry.

Rows of desks haphazardly assembled and collecting dust.

Thousands had fallen before night descended over the killing fields. Gronder now permanently stained red with the blood of a generation, their generation. Bones scarred the earth. Among the nameless, to be forgotten by history, many of the dead had their names carved into archives of The Officers Academy. Peers who had elected not to join the Black Eagles. Students with bright futures, green with life. It was easier when they did not have names.

The Resistance army had successfully filed back to Garreg Mach from its forward operating camp with relative speed. Having established a foothold, it was now possible to carve path through the Oghma Mountains as Varley territory lay empty following the bloodbath. Now settled back into a routine, discomfort began to swell amidst the monastery garrison. Usually battle plans should have been co-ordinated and preparations well under way. But now, silence. Fort Merceus remained unconquered and Byleth was running out of time. She pressed her hands into her head. Having spent the better part of a week locked away with Seteth, the commanding pair had made little progress in figuring out how to break the news to the army, other than by working group by group and hope they could pull through together.

Now, Byleth stood in her old classroom.

Thirteen attempts. Byleth had thirteen attempts to get this right.

Mercedes, Ingrid, and Sylvain stood before her. It was no secret that Ingrid and Sylvain had grown close. A lifetime of shared trauma brought them together as battle hardened soldiers. Mercedes however, Mercedes had grown into an exceptional healer, but struggled to form bonds with her peers. Ever since having her spirit run through by Jeritza and being scorned by her best friend, she had closed herself off, fearful of any future attachment that could end in heartbreak. It was a gamble, but Seteth had agreed putting her together with the other remaining Lions, bar Felix, would be the best way to break the news without shattering her spirit once and for all. She had suffered enough.

“You asked to see us Professor?” Ingrid cautiously broke the silence, a sense of foreboding washing over her, as she briefly glanced at Sylvain, his gaze stone cold and fixed to the window just over the Professor’s shoulder. Neither of them could look her in the eye right now. Mercedes sat amongst them, her hands fidgeting along the hem of her blouse trying to disguise their fervent shaking.

“I have bad news.”

Sylvain and Ingrid cautiously turned to face each other and check on Mercedes.

“The Kingdom, Alliance and Empire all fought at Gronder Field.” Byleth paused and gently approached Mercedes who gently whispered, “Annie, please.”

“Annette, Dimitri, Rodrigue and Gilbert didn’t make it. Lysithea, Hilda and Raphael also fell. I’m sorry.”

Despite having overheard the news prior to their return, Ingrid and Sylvain found it difficult to remain composed, instead biting their lips together while Mercedes openly wept. “Goddess”, she repeated in between sobs, “why”. Perhaps in another life she could have stood beside her brother and best friend, but despite siding with the Church and the Goddess, Mercedes, the ever-devout gentle soul, was finally broken.

By this point Flayn had quietly entered the room and tried to console her. “Mercedes, I promise you we will hold a vigil for Annette.” She looked back towards Sylvain and Ingrid who remained deathly still, “and Dimitri.”

Still sobbing, Mercedes nodded between gasps. This time Sylvain ended the uneasy silence. “I’m sure he would appreciate that Professor. He was always fond of you; I just wish we could all have spent more time together.”

Mercedes continued pressing a handkerchief against her watery eyes with her free hand, while Flayn clutched the other. Struggling to find the confidence to speak, Mercedes instead sat in painful silence.

Byleth stepped forward, “Mercedes, Seteth and I have agreed that we would like you to stay at the monastery for an extra month.” While the loss of their star healer was a significant tactical blow, unbeknownst to Mercedes, Jeritza was garrisoned at Merceus. Perhaps shielding her from speaking to her wayward brother was cruel, but ultimately preferable to her watching him be cut down. The Death Knight had made it quite clear it would be victory or death. Mercedes would be in good company. Flayn would also be held back, having not seen combat since the Battle of Garreg Mach, as per Seteth’s request.

“Professor.” Flayn spoke up. “Perhaps Mercedes and I should retire to our quarters.” Mercedes nodded her head, while not as inconsolable, she was still clearly unable to speak. The pair made their way out to the courtyard, treading through the downpour. Dorothea, who up until then had been outside pacing to and fro went with them.

Ingrid and Sylvain, neither saying so much as a word, also excused themselves. “Ingrid, Sylvain?” The pair paused in the doorway. “If you are comfortable, can you stay? Felix will be here at the hour. I don’t know what to do. Seteth and I have spent a week talking it through.” Over the year, Byleth had become better at expressing her humanity. A far cry from when she had first arrived. Never before had the pair seen her so unsure of herself and exposing fragility.

“We’ll do it.”

  


  


  


  


Seteth wandering into the training grounds was a most unusual sight. For someone so clearly capable in battle, he seemingly did not need to try and maintain or hone his skill. Regardless, Seteth made his appearance brief, merely asking him to go to the old Black Eagles classroom in an hour before returning to his office and the mountains of paperwork that often monopolised his free time. Nobody else was in the combat arena. Even the slightest drop of rain seemed to be enough to discourage even Thunder Catherine from practising her namesake. Letting out his signature sigh, Felix put away his blade and made his way towards the dining hall, having once again skipped most of his meals to maximise combat time.

Reaching the kitchen, Felix decided against having a large meal. He hated crowds oh so much. Likewise, seemingly everyone in Garreg Mach had been driven in by a mixture of foul rain which was now dripping from Felix’s frayed hair, but also the service staff were holding a bake off with cakes and sweet treats. Such activities were not uncommon for the kitchen. It seemed like every other week they tried to do something special to keep morale high. While scanning the hall as he waited in line for food, Felix didn’t spot Mercedes. She and Annie practically set up residence here during the school year, just as he had with the training grounds. His eyes darted from face to face again. He spotted Bernie darting from cover to cover, covertly smuggling out a generous helping of cakes, but Mercedes was no where in sight. Neither were Ingrid or Flayn for that matter. Usually those two gluttons could be found hovering around here, often with Sylvain on a leash. Opting for a usual meal over sweets and treats, Felix found himself accompanied by Caspar who was mercifully too busy shoving food into his face to make conversation, while Linhardt slept with his head neatly nested against Caspar’s shoulder. Hapi similarly gorged herself with the added bonus of enjoying the respite from Linhardt’s obsessive crest research. As the bell struck the hour, Felix excused himself from the table, bound for the Black Eagles classroom.

“Why am I here?” As blunt as ever. “I was busy training.”

“Felix, take a seat.” Byleth rose her arm gently guiding him into a chair alongside Sylvain and Ingrid. He raised his eyebrow but did as instructed, though the scowl on his face faltered somewhat. “This is no tea party or dinner invitation” he thought. Something is different. Felix turned slightly to assess Ingrid and Sylvain. Ingrid was as hard to read as ever, but Sylvain’s face was out of character. Something is not right. For someone stood in a quiet classroom, Byleth held the same dry eyes and bloodied nose as if she were in the heat of battle. Something is wrong.

For Felix, not once for pomp and circumstance, Byleth decided to cut straight to the point. She’s got thirteen attempts to get this right. With one last inhale and exhale, “Dimitri and Rodrigue were killed by the Imperial Army at Gronder Field. We are making preparations for a memorial service next week if you would like to attend. When the war is over the myself and the Church will help House Fraldarius, Galatea and Gautier in any way you need us to. You have my word.”

“The boar went and got himself killed and my Father foolishly followed him?” Felix’s arms were firmly crossed as he chose to forego acknowledging the impending reality of his future as Duke of the second house of Faerghus. Goddess knows what will happen to Blaiddyd and Faerghus now. Would there even be a land left for the houses to lay claim to? Galatea and Gautier had similarly uninterested heirs, but their respective heads were still alive.

Rodrigue’s fanatical rhetoric had already prepared Felix for this eventuality long ago which no doubt lessened the blow, but it certainly chipped away at him somewhere deep inside. All he wanted to do in this moment was carve out some space to train his feelings out. “Will that be all?” he asked as he began to rise from his seat. Ingrid clenched her eyes shut. Sylvain dropped his face. Any observers would be forgiven for thinking that would hit Felix the most, but Byleth knew him well enough to know the worst was yet to come. “Wait, Felix. There’s more. Annette”

“Annette was there?” Felix interrupted, pulling himself out of the seat once more, and immediately marching towards the door, hand reaching for his sword, whilst looking over his shoulder. Ingrid and Sylvain remained seated, her eyes still shut, his face still fixated on the floor.

“Sylvain, Ingrid. Get your mounts together and we can make it out there in a few hours, bring her home.”

“Felix” Ingrid muttered, before being stopped by Byleth who gently raised her hand as she swiftly circled to cut him off and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Get out of my way, I’m bringing her home and you can’t stop me.” Felix’s eyes bored into what he had expected to by Byleth’s usual hollow façade, only to discover her face a reflection of the pain she carried after losing Jeralt and once again with Ashe.

“They’re, gone Felix. Dimitri, Rodrigue and Annette. I’m sorry. I couldn’t save them.”

The room stood in silence while Felix continued to process the latest of many cruel hands the Goddess had dealt him. It was no secret that he struggled to handle emotions healthily, preferring to spar them out of his system. Despite being often cutthroat with his words, this was the first time; however, anyone saw Felix lash out physically, a trait he often lamented of the boar prince. With a flash of his crest, Felix had eviscerated the firmly sealed mahogany doors to the classroom. Splinters flew as Felix marched towards the training grounds, weapon in hand. Sylvain and Ingrid followed in tow leaving Byleth alone in her old classroom, her nose bloodied as the echoes of shattering glass dissipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while to get out. I finished the campaign this is based on around a month ago by now. Time flies.
> 
> I do have a plan for this to go on for a few more chapters but it most likely won't run for the course of the Silver Snow campaign. I want this to be a meaningful vignette and character exploration rather than an act by act re-telling. 
> 
> Let me know what you think so far though!


	4. Lost in Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Mercedes come to terms.

**_Part Two, Azure Moon_ **

**_Harpstring Moon, Lost in Thoughts_ **

An uppercut to the kidney, a rough slice to the neck and a kick to centre mass. Felix’s crest had fired three times. The training dummy collapsed, its eviscerated chunks splitting apart on impact, adding to the pile. Felix immediately snapped his aim to the next closest target and charged in, his blade raised above his head. In place of his usual clean and dancer-like grace, Felix’s movements attacks here were raw, passionate but… perverse and animalistic.

Ingrid and Slyvain stood to the side-lines, together in silence, neither daring to make the first move.

“If you’re just here to stare then leave. I have nothing to say.” Felix did not pause his attacks. A rough slice to the neck and a kick to centre mass, all punctuated by the unmistakable crunch of a crest strike.

“Felix come on, you need a break.” Sylvain started, “you’re exhausting yourself”, Ingrid quickly stepped in before Slyvain could make a poorly timed remark about going to hit on some girls.

“Hmph. No. I’m fine.” Three more swift strikes delivered competently enough for any swordsman, but sup-bar for the heir Fraldarius. Repeated sequences without deviation.

“At least let us help, we’re with you Fe.”

“I’m fine.” A rough slice to the neck, a loud crash of his crest activating once more and Felix dropped on his knees. “I’m. I. Am. FINE.” Felix unleashed one final clumsy strike to the legs of the training dummy as his torso fell forwards onto the stone beneath.

Both ex-lions by the wayside leaped into action. “Healer! We need a healer! Ingrid, go fetch the first medic you find.” Sylvain pitched down by Felix’s side.

“On it.” Ingrid ran towards the training ground doors, taking a left for the old classrooms turned war rooms. The green area outside the classrooms had vacated since Felix’s public breakdown. Ingrid turned the corner into the old Black Eagle room to fortunately see the Professor inside with Seteth and Flayn huddled together. Was she crying? No. Doesn’t matter now. “Professor!” The three sharply turned to face her. “Felix collapsed, his crest, he used his crest a dozen times in a row. I haven’t seen anything like”

“Where?” Seteth sternly spoke, snapping Ingrid out of her panicked narration.

“Training grounds, he needs a healer now.” Flayn was already out of her seat and running towards the splintered doorframe at an amazing speed for her height.

“Understood, the Professor and I will fetch Manuela and Mercedes and meet you in the infirmary, go with Flayn.” As Ingrid left earshot, Seteth’s face dropped as he looked to Byleth, who was cursing under her breath. “You tried your best, love. This is not your fault.”

Byleth didn’t immediately speak, but her sharp exhale followed by silence was telling. “I’ll meet you in Jeralt’s office. Thank you Seteth.”

“Hey buddy, keep your eyes open. Steady breaths big guy.” Slyvain was still crouched beside Felix who by now had turned over, his back raised against Sylvain’s arms as he gasped for breath.

“I-I-m-f-ne”

“No Felix, you aren’t. I don’t care if you hate me for this but what would Annette say if she say you right now Fe?”

“Make a hole!”

Sylvain looked up to see a not insignificant crowd had formed by the entryway with Flayn pushing her way through the idle onlookers with Ingrid in tow.

“Felix!” Flayn gasped as she kneeled with her staff and got to work. “What happened?”

Ingrid, now calm, attempted to repeat the story from earlier. “Felix was practising on some training dummies and activated his crest about a dozen times in a row without a break, then he collapsed.”

“I can not see any internal damage or bleeding. Could you both help pick him up and bring him to the infirmary?” Somehow despite the air of panic, Flayn’s speech and intonation was usually formal and unwavering as she hurried towards the door.

The pair carefully picked up Felix by the shoulders and carried him through the crowd who had now dispersed to form a small line through the middle to carry him through. Fortunately, the infirmary was not far. “Upstairs though? Why have an infirmary upstairs in an inaccessible hallway?!” Sylvain grumbled. Ingrid could only grunt in agreement. Mercedes, who herself had been pried away from her own grieving, and Manuela had prepared a bed to receive the incoming patient.

“You know you can leave this one to me, right dear?” Manuela smoothly cooed.

Mercedes shook her head, face down as she padded out bedsheets. “I’ll be alright profe-“

“Just Manuela is fine, we’re equals now dear.”

“Coming through!” Flayn burst the door open, Ingrid and Sylvain in tow. The pair carried him to the bed Mercedes had prepared and was now sat next to. Flayn was talking to Manuela, probably letting her know what was wrong, but in the moment, Mercedes could only focus on Felix’s cold face, as the world muffled around her.

“Hey? Mercedes? Mercie!” Mercedes jolted back into focus, as Manuela loomed over her. “Are you sure you’re gonna be able to help out today?”

“I’ll be alright Manuela. Let me get started.”

“We’ll be outside.” Sylvain signalled, leaving Mercedes, Manuela and Flayn in the room.

“And I should report to my brother.” Flayn added, before bouncing away herself.

Mercedes frowned, having inspected her patient. “It doesn’t look like anything is seriously wrong with Felix though. No bleeding, no torn muscle, no-”

Manuela interrupted once again, “Mercedes, you know as well as I do that some injuries aren’t physical. He’s hurting too.”

There was a cold pause while Mercedes finished tucking Felix in as Manuela watched, slouched against the door.

“You can always talk to me Mercedes.” Maneula’s words were abnormally sombre and encouraging.

“Annie wrote to me about him in those five years… I tried to get her to come to the reunion but”

“It isn’t your burden dear to bare dear.”

“I’m okay to sit with him for a while if you want to go out.”

“Alright, I’ll check in on you both in a few hours. I don’t plan on getting drunk again anytime soon. Look after yourself alright?” Manuela pepped with a small wink and gently closed the door behind her. Mercedes let out a small giggle.

“We have only a handful of weeks until we march on Fort Merceus. While Shamir is still obtaining the supplies for this operation, we must determine our strike force and battle plan quickly.” Seteth deadpanned with shut eyes, trying to keep his voice down. Byleth anxiously paced across the room.

The pair had retreated to the former captain’s office, next door to the infirmary.

“Talk to me Byleth. Please.”

“What do you suppose caused him to collapse? His crest?”

“We will resume planning later then, but no, I do not believe Fraldarius is suffering from his birth right. I may not know the man as well as yourself, but I believe he is overwhelmed.”

“Felix? Overwhelmed?” Now standing behind Jeralt’s desk, Byleth’s blank gaze shifted to meet Seteth.

“Felix defines himself by his strength and the lifelong burdens of his brother, his father, his liege as well as the newfound kindle of his lover. Though I am typically against students forming relationships at the Officers Academy, I do make exceptions now and then. Fraldarius needed the support. Despite not being on good terms with most of the people in his life, they have all been key pillars of it, many of whom are no longer with us. The only things I believe he has left to cling onto are Gautier, Galatea and yourself, Professor. He will need your continued guidance in the months ahead.”

A knock at the door. “Brother, may I come in?”

“Of course Flayn.” Byleth couldn’t help but smile as Flayn bounced into the room, even going so far as ruffling the top of her hair as so approached. Despite Seteth’s sigh of discomfort, her presence was a much needed palette cleanser for an otherwise disastrous day.

“How is he?”

“Felix is fine Professor. No bleeding, no muscle damage, nothing broken, other than his heart.” Her face soured into a frown upon that last remark. “I spent much time with Felix during our school year. I like to think he secretly enjoyed our training sessions together. I often found him humming to himself in the training grounds or around the green house.” Both Byleth and Seteth raised their eyebrows. “Did you not know? I believe he used to hum the songs Annette would sing while doing chores. He was always too embarrassed to admit it.”

“To lose so many loved ones in such a short time. How inhuman this war is.”

Silence loomed over the room as small murmurs from the infirmary permeated through the hollow wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this took so long, I have been really busy. Do let me know if you want more of this fic though.


End file.
